


mix my medicine

by superhusbands



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 01:01:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15938507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhusbands/pseuds/superhusbands
Summary: josh isn't crazy, he's sick.a series of vignettes exploring josh's mental health journey.vignette #1) pre-prologue.





	mix my medicine

Outside the window, rain peppered onto the roof and dripped down the pane. It was a grisly day, the morning having started out bright enough only for dark storm clouds to roll in by noon. Josh Washington couldn't help but find the change in the weather comforting. It reflected how he was feeling inside, sitting in the waiting room of his therapist's office. His foot was tapping incessantly against the marbled tile, a woman off to his right shooting glares at him every so often. It must have been annoying. If he was capable of stopping, he might have. Instead he could only tug his hood a little tighter, feel it constricting around his face as he suffered another breath. Waiting was the worst part. Waiting was  _excruciating._

 _Finally,_ the door swings open.

"Josh Washington?"

Dr. Hill wasn't a very old man. Late 40's, maybe. 50 if you really wanted to push it. He had a face that felt familiar yet strange, like someone you  _might_ have run into in the grocery store, or at the mall, but never really took much notice of him. He was nonthreatening. He was  _normal._ It was probably why Melinda Washington, Josh's mom, had reached out to him. After the nightmare that was his first therapist, the one he'd had since he was eleven, a change had been necessary when he hit his teen years. Between medication changes and hospital stays, Josh was starting to feel like his whole  _life_ was spent in and out of waiting rooms and doctor's offices.

"That's me." He replied with a sigh, raising to his feet. The woman in the waiting room with him looked relieved, probably glad that Josh and his tapping foot were about to leave the room.  _You're welcome, lady_ , Josh thought to himself.  _Here we go again._

In the office, Dr. Hill had a pretty familiar setup. His desk, off to the side, with a set of two chairs directly in front of it. He had his own chair behind the desk, plush and dark blue, looking well loved and extremely comfortable.  _Way_ nicer than the creaking, plastic chairs that the last office he'd sat in had.  _Clearly, an upgrade. How sweet._ Apparently his parents had decided to shell out the big bucks this time in yet another attempt to diagnose their son and his  _issues._ Across the room was your standard therapist couch, lined with throw pillows likely meant to make you feel at ease in the room. Josh didn't. Instead his gaze fell on the metronome on Dr. Hill's desk, brow furrowed.  _What the fuck_ _?_

"Have a seat."

Stolen from his observations, Josh took one of the empty chairs in front of the desk. He hated sitting on therapist couches, leaning back and being asked to talk about his problems. His  _troubles._ Whatever was going on in his life. He only ever really felt crazy when he was on those couches. 

Across from him, Dr. Hill has pulled a file out of his desk. He's flipping through it, murmuring to himself every so often. His glasses are perched so low on his nose that Josh wanders if they'll fall off. They don't, which leaves him  _slightly_ disappointed. "So your mother tells me things weren't working out with your last therapist."

"Nope." Josh pops the 'P', doesn't have the decency to look chagrined. "Everything they prescribed, wasn't working. Or it would work, I guess, for a few weeks, and then it'd stop." He shrugged. "Then I aged out, I guess. They referred me to you."   _Well,_ they'd referred him to a behavioural psychologist first, but that had inevitably landed him here, with Dr. Hill. He explained as much. "So here I am."

"Here you are." Dr. Hill surmised, flipping the file closed. "Seventeen, about to start college. UCLA?"

Josh nodded. "Mhm. Film."

Dr. Hill doesn't look surprised. Most people don't. With a father like Bob Washington, hot-shot hollywood movie director, saying you want to do film is like Ronald McDonald's son saying he wants to work at a McDonalds. It's  _inevitable._ "I want to be a producer." He adds it almost as an afterthought, a shot to good 'ol Bob.  His dad might direct, but Josh wants to produce. Two sides of the same coin, sure, but it's  _his_ path. Not his father's. 

"Interesting."

Josh grits his teeth. The worst thing about therapy, bar known, is their observations. He watched as Dr. Hill wrote something down in his notes, his expression betraying nothing as Josh is left to agonize over what,  _exactly,_ was interesting. "I guess."

"From what I understand," Dr. Hill continues, "...you've been having trouble in school. Getting detention, missing classes, failing tests. Your parents are concerned you might have to repeat the year. Is this a concern that you share with them?" He looked at Josh expectantly.  Josh blinked. 

"I mean, yeah, I've missed some classes..." he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. Recently he'd been suspended for smoking pot on school grounds. He wondered if Dr. Hill knew about that too. Judging by the all powerful file of his information, he had a feeling that he probably did. "I'll graduate on time. I always figure it out." 

"It says here that you were held back. In middle school?" Dr. Hill is reading from the all knowing file again, glancing up at Josh. "You missed a lot of time then, too. Would you say that missing school happens a lot?"

"Define a lot." Josh can't help but be defensive. Dr. Hill might not be attacking him, but it definitely doesn't feel like he's on his side. "I was sick."  He  _had_ been sick, in a way. There had been days where getting himself out of bed had seemed too overwhelming, the world too loud and uninviting. Even Chris had had a hard time getting him out of the house for awhile, his sisters sitting back and watching in dismay as Josh had fallen further and further behind. He'd tried summer school in an attempt to catch up but it hadn't worked out, putting him back in the same grade again that next year when things had started to improve. "I'll catch up again."

Dr. Hill hums, flipping through pages again. Josh wanted to strangle him. If he wanted to know something, he could just ask. Reading it from the all knowing file just made Josh feel like he was being interviewed. Or interrogated. It wasn't a great feeling. Absently he started scratching the inside of his wrist, a nervous tick that he'd developed maybe a year ago. Never enough to break the surface, but enough to keep him rooted in the moment. Like a reality check, the physical pain kept him present when he felt his mind drifting like it was now.  

"Well Josh, there's a new medication we want you to try. It's a higher dosage than what you're used to, but judging by your history I think it's our best shot." Dr. Hill looks up at him finally, a reassuring smile on his face. If it's meant to be comforting, it's not really working. "You suffer from major depressive disorder. It makes things like getting out of bed, going to class, all of those things, harder for you than it is for other people." Dr. Hill continued. "What you're taking now isn't working, so we're going to increase your dose and try something new. I want to see you again next week, we'll talk a bit more, and then the week after we'll see how things are going on the new medication." He stood up, holding his hand out for Josh to shake. "I know you've heard this before, but we're going to help you, Joshua."

Josh shook his hand after only a moment's hesitation. Dr. Hill was right, he  _had_ heard all of this before.

He could only hope that this time, it worked. 

 


End file.
